Questionable Land
by Owen D
Summary: Dudley's face was grim and anxious as he walked up to the three legged stool. He picked up the sorting hat and placed it on his head. He sat on the stool for an eternity. Finally the seam on the sorting hat split open in an imitation of a mouth.


Questionable Land

Disclaimer: The _Harry Potter_ series is written by J. K. Rowling.

Rating: T for language and foreseeable violence.

Genre: Adventure/Friendship (I tried some humor for this chapter, don't know how well that worked, though.)

A/N: This fiction is not to poke fun at people with weight problems. It was simply how Dudley was portrayed in the books at first. I'm sorry if you get offended, but that is _not_ my intention at all. I just thought it was natural for the character to act and think the way she does, considering her rather sudden and unfortunate circumstance. But it will get better. Just read and see. R&R please.

* * *

Prologue

I was always more into the fairies and pixies type of magic than the witches and wizards kind. Therefore you can image my shock when I woke up in the body of a character from the _Harry Potter _books. And not just any character. No, it had to be a male character. A _male_ character. As in I woke up without my uterus and other genitals in its place. It was… disturbing. And that's just putting it lightly!

Now, as if being in a male body wasn't enough. Of course it wasn't enough! When one thing goes wrong, everything else just snowballs downhill with it. At least that was how my situation was turning out to be. Shall I tell you which character it is? I'm sure you're just dying to know, because I am just plain dying in his thrice damned body. Of all the people…

"AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"

I woke up in my new body with a scream and toppled over the bed. Actually it wasn't so much as _waking up_, as it was _falling into_ a _nightmare_! So anyways, I… _opened my eyes_ and saw a horse-like face and a pudgy pig-like face three centimeters away from my nose. It was just the thing I needed to wake up to, to send me to an early grave.

I upset the bed when I toppled off it, and turned the bed onto its side. It was one of those hospital beds. It wasn't a surprise that it couldn't hold my newly acquired weight. I dragged the IV down with me and the needle came out with sharp pinch. My leg, which was wrapped up in a cast, banged against the bed and throbbed painfully.

"AHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" I continued to scream, but it was more from my near heart attack than the pain.

"Oh!" The horse faced woman let out an anguished gasp and hurried around the bed to get to me.

"No! No! Stay away! Stay away!" I kicked my un-bandaged foot to keep her away. That was when I noticed my leg. It was _short_and _pudgy_! Where did the beautiful muscles that I slaved for hours running in the park go to?! "Oh my…" I stopped before I said 'god,' because I notice a change in my voice. It was _squeaky_! My singing voice! I started to scream, but stop when it was that same horrendous wail that ended up screeching in my ear instead.

"A mirror! I need a mirror!" I demanded.

The horse faced woman fumbled in her purse and pulled out a compact mirror. She popped it open and I snatched it away from her, not caring that I was spilling the powder everywhere. From the woman's indignant squawk, I imagine it was some expensive powder. I peered into the mirror. My new face couldn't even fit into the small frame! I blinked and the reflection blinked. I scrunched up my nose, in what used to be cute on my _real_ face, but the reflection glared back at me with the face of a constipated pig!

"Ahhhh! Ahhhh! Ahhhh! What the HELL! What the HELL! What the _HELL_ happened to me?!"

"Dudley!" The woman admonished my language.

"What's wrong my son?" The pig asked. "Calm down."

Did he just say _son_? I fainted.

When I came to, I was back on a hospital bed and suitably sedated. The IV drip was back in my arm. I suspect sedatives at work here, but it was all good. I wasn't too keen on failing about in this walrus sized body!

From the conversations around me I gathered that the boy I'm stuck in was just into his third month of schooling at Smeltings; some fancy-smancy, private, middle school. I gathered that I was- well, he- the boy was around eleven. Fancy that! A seventeen year old girl stuck in the body of an eleven year old boy. I shuddered, it was like pedophilia! It's not like I asked to be stuck in his body, but still! It gives me the shivers just _thinking_ about it. How the hell did I end up in this predicament in the first place?!

If you're asking me, I don't know. I wish I did though. I was starting to chalk this up to one elaborate nightmare.

What I do know was that I- this boy got into a fight at school, hence the cast. He was throwing a tantrum in the school halls (probably because he lost the fight- stuck up pig) when the windows down the hall all shattered and a strong gust tore the hallway apart. (Ha, the walrus probably broke the windows with his wailing.) He obviously sustained some injuries from the incident (serves him right, I just wish that I didn't have to suffer the damage in his place). Then according to the boys at the scene it was like a ton of bricks fell onto the boy's head (the one I'm now in) and he crumpled onto the ground. Funny thing was, there were no bricks (although he got a minor head injury- from the fight, mind you), and the gales stopped as soon as he was unconscious.

There was no teacher to confirm the story. So it was those boys' words against mine, and I had yet to give my view of the story (which I have no clue about since I wasn't there!)

By then I was starting to put two and two together. The names were a big tip off. Dudley Dursley. That's who I'm, for the lack of a better term, _possessing_ right now. I shuddered at the thought. Of all the people. Why? This. Fat. Stupid. Lub. Of. (Did I mention stupid? Not to mention ugly.) Blubber?

I may not be a hardcore fan, but I can safely bet that magic is at work here.

I don't care about the who, what, when, where, and why, I just want the how. How do I get myself out of this situation?

* * *

Petunia Dursley, the horse faced woman, and Vernon Dursley, the pig faced man, pulled me out of Smeltings. Dudley's mom, or mum (I'm American, but I'm starting to pick up the colloquial), said the school was "too uncouth and barbaric" for her "poor, precious, delicate Dudders." Hello, woman? What part of this walrus is _delicate_? A mother's love should only be so blind before it's just plain denial.

I wasn't complaining, though. I wouldn't want to go back to that Smeltings either if I could help it. C'mon, they make the students wear (if my memory serves me) _orange_ pants and _purple_ blazers? (Something along those lines.) Ugh, talk about a bad fashion sense.

The Dursley's didn't immediately send me back to school either, which I was grateful for, I needed time to sort out the mess in my head. I also needed to get my emotions under control. (I know I'm not a teenage girl anymore and my hormones should be stable in this body… Hey, wait! Stop rubbing it in my face! I didn't _ask_ to possess this walrus! I'm still a very sensitive young lady at heart, thank you very much.)

Back to the topic. Considering the Dursleys spoil their son rotten, there was no way they would send Dudley back on crutches, especially not to the local school. Oh no! That would be a blasphemy. They needed to find the best, and only _the_ best and _the most_ expensive school to enroll Dudley in. (Insert eye roll.)

After a week inside the Dursley household, I was wondering if school would've been the lesser of two evils. At least I know this sixth grade stuff and I can sleep in class. At the house (I refuse to call it home), that woman smothers me so much I can't even pee in privacy. Oh, peeing, another subject I rather not broach.

I had refused. I absolutely refused to use the loo while in this boy's body. I could do without having to see his genitals. Eventually it got so ridiculous that Petunia had to force me into the bathroom. I was not pleased. I screamed. I threw a bloody tantrum. Merlin, how long has it been since my last tantrum? Wait… That would be when I was eleven. (Does that entitle me to a tantrum since I am physically eleven?) I got even more pissed off once I realized I was acting exactly as Dudley would. I stopped screaming once that realization hit me like a sack of potatoes.

I still refused to use the loo. I braced myself against the doorframe, and considering my big frame it was hard to get me through the door unless I was willing. Dudley's mum tried to shove me in, but I refused. Dudley's dad was at work.

Eventually, I got fed up.

"No! And that's final!" Something inside me exploded. The mirror shattered and the small opaque window on the top of the wall cracked. Something warm and wet rushed down my fat, stubby legs. Apparently more than one thing exploded…

My cheeks burned. I got upset and the knob came off the faucet with a pop. Water gushed up from the pipes and sprinkled the bathroom. After that, no one else could use the loo peacefully.

It took two days before the plumber came to fix the damage.

A short while later, I started showering and using the loo willingly, but only out of necessity. (A full bladder really isn't good for you, and Dudley stinks easily.) Although I was already possessing Dudley's body, I really didn't want to touch this body more than necessary. Come to think of it, where's the real Dudley, and what's happening to _my_ body?

…

…

Let's not think about it. See no evil. Speak no evil. _Think_ no evil.

A little while after the bathroom incident, I calmed down enough to reflect on it. It occurred to me that there was something unnatural about the breaking glass. However, Dudley's mum never said a word about the event, and I kept quiet too. I had enough on my plate without inviting more trouble.

It's been nine days since I was brought from the hospital to the Dursley household. During most of that time I moped in Dudley's room and refused to leave unless it was for the loo. I haven't spoken a word since the time Dudley's mum tried to force me into the loo. I didn't want to acknowledge the people and things around me. It would be accepting that they exist, which they don't, unless it's within the pages of a book. Dudley's mum brought food up to me (but I barely touch the food), and Dudley's dad trod on ice around me. They were both becoming worried for my health and sanity. Understandable, but I could care less.

On the tenth day I woke up early to the chirping of birds. I went to the loo and performed my morning ablutions. When I came out, the Dursleys were still asleep. I looked at their bedroom door and then peeked down the stairs. I took a slow, even breath and steal myself. I couldn't stay holed up in Dudley's room forever, besides it smells funny in there. Time for a little exploring.

I crept down the stairs trying not to wake the Dursleys. A little past halfway the step groaned loudly under my weight. I held my breath. I strained my ears and heard Dudley's dad snore loudly from the master room. I let out my breath and continued on. The stairs led into the living room. I looked up the stairs to make sure no one was tailing me. (Why do I feel like a thief?)

A clock on the wall read six-thirty. I estimated that I had an hour or two before Dudley's mom got up. I noticed the door on the side of the stairs, a broom cupboard. My eyes widened as I realized the steps that creaked the most were above that door. That broom cupboard was Harry's 'room,' and those stairs were the ones that Dudley jumped on extra hard to aggravate Harry. No wonder they groaned the loudest. Something coiled uncomfortably in my chest. I identified irritation, exasperation, and anger. I clenched my now chubby fists. If Dudley stood before me I would've served him a knuckle sandwich. The thought was useless as I was in Dudley now, so unless I wished to punch myself out, there was nothing I could do to vent my feelings.

I turned away from the stairs and surveyed the living room. I saw the framed pictures of Dudley's stages of evolution flanked by his parents in each one. In each evolution the boy got bigger and rounder. There was not a single picture of Harry. I was in Harry Potter's world and I didn't know what the protagonist looked like. Just knowing he has black hair and green eyes weren't really helpful in building the boy's face.

Maybe this little 'exploration' trip wasn't such a good idea. I was feeling more and more irritated the more I looked. With a sigh I decided to bite the proverbial bullet. I was down here already, might as well map out the rest of the house.

A squashed couch that has seen better days sat in the middle of the room. It faced a big screen T.V. In front of the T.V. was a gaming unit. The shelves under the T.V. were packed with games. Many of them looked bloody; some of them even looked naughty. Ugh.

I turned to head into the kitchen. On the way to the kitchen there was a full length body mirror. Dudley's mom probably used it to check her appearance before she left the house. Everything in this house was impeccably clean; I guess her image had to be impeccably clean, too.

I didn't think much on the mirror until I walked passed it. Big mistake. I nearly had a heart attack when I glimpsed the reflection from the corner of my eye. I was two paces passed the mirror, so I couldn't see the reflection anymore. I took a deep breath, willing my heart to calm down. Was I expecting to see myself in the mirror? I was stupid to walk by it so carelessly.

I closed my eyes, counted backwards from ten and took two steps backwards. Was I ready to face this? I took another steadying breath. Let's just get it over with. I opened my eyes.

The mirror reflected a big boy. A really big boy. His limbs were pudgy and stout. His eyes sunk into his face because the blubber on his cheeks buried them. I couldn't tell the color of his eyes at all. A mop of unattractive dirty blond hair sat on his head. (At least he's not bald.)

I pinched myself. My arm grew red and the area stung. This can't possibly be me, can it? The air rushed out of me, and I experienced tunnel vision for the first time. All I saw was the reflection of a chubby blond boy. I loathed that image. This child wasn't me. I don't deserve this predicament. I was family orientated and I did volunteer work. Why was this happening to me?

The image of the boy became ten boys, then eighteen, and then there were too many to count. The fury swelled inside me and all the tiny images of the fat boy split into tinier images and crumpled to the floor. It was so unfair. Why? Why was this happening to me? I could think of other people who would deserve this more than I, so why was I here? My fury swept about me. I hate this. I really, really hate this.

Someone get me out. Get me out of this body.

I screamed.

When I came to, Dudley's mum and dad were hovering over me, frittering like nervous pigeons, but they didn't touch me. I tried to get up. There was a horrible ringing sound in my ears, and my head was banging to a parade. Dudley's mum had to ease me up because I had difficulty with my bulk. I cradled my head with my hands and peered around me blearily. Why was I lying on the floor? Wasn't I just looking in a mirror?

I spotted the full body mirror, well, the remains of the full body mirror, in a heap on the floor. How did that happen? Did I punch the mirror because I was unhappy with what it showed me? I looked around the rest of the room.

The living room was in shambles. All the picture frames were cracked and broken. Some of them hung precariously, and some of them were on the floor. A few of the pictures looked like they were cut by sharp blades. The big screen T.V. wasn't so big anymore, and the poor couch looks like it's finally out of its misery. The curtains and blinds look like someone ran a knife through them. Oh my god, the windows were all broken, too. Wha…

"What happened here?" I whipped my head around to look at the Dursleys. They looked at me. They looked at each other. Then they turned back to me, but they wouldn't talk. They looked almost… frightened. Dudley's mum was bone white, while Dudley's dad was a nauseous green.

"Oh my sweet child. Why you? Why you, too?" Dudley's mum was crying.

"No. No, Pet, he's not." Dudley's dad was trying to comfort her, and then he turned to me, his face a revolting shade of magenta. (I didn't know it was possible to change colors so fast.) "You're not, Dudley. You're _not_."

Who was he trying to convince? Himself, or me? And I'm not _what_?

"What do you mean?" I asked. I tensed when I heard a flutter of wings and hooting. An owl flew into the room from the cavity left by the broken windows. It dropped something into my lap and took purchase on the banister.

In my lap was a letter. It was addressed to "Mr. & Mrs. Dursley," but I ripped open the envelope anyways. The Dursleys weren't looking too functional, and the owl _did_ drop the letter onto my lap.

_To the Esteemed Mr. & Mrs. Dursley, _(I snorted.)

_It has come to our attention that your son, Dudley Dursley has been having explosive bouts of accidental magic. I understand that this might come as a shock to you, but know that you are not alone. Exhibiting magical abilities so late in childhood is a rarity, but rest assured for you shall have our full support in this unexpected, yet exciting part of your child's life. A representative will be arriving shortly to answer any questions you may have and to discuss the future of your child._

_We wish you the best of luck,_

_Department of Magical Regulation_

I blinked at the letter several times. I turned it over to the Dursleys.

"Here, I think you should look at this."

Mrs. Dursley gasped and fainted.

Mr. Dursley turned such a horrifying shade of purple that I feared for his heart condition.

* * *

After the mini fiasco with the letter, I went into the kitchen for a cup of milk. I didn't think I could stomach anything else. After the milk, I went up to Dudley's room. When I passed by the living room, I saw Vernon trying to revive Petunia.

I closed the bedroom door behind me and walked over to the window. I parted the curtains and looked out into the clear blue sky. Not a cloud in sight. I sighed. The outside world was a complete contradiction of my inner turmoil.

I have been in Dudley's body for nearly a week and a half. Some weird form of magic, or maybe you can call it a twist of fate, has merged my soul with Dudley's body. Perhaps a side effect of this magical phenomenon was my newly acquired magical abilities. There was no avoiding the truth now. Of course this was all speculation, but there was no denying that I was now Dudley, and I could perform magic.

Facts aside, what I really want to know was, how did something so far-fetched happened, and how do I revert it. Of course I do not have the answers, so who would?

The sound of the doorbell vibrated throughout the house, rousing me from my musings. I heard the heavy stomping of Vernon going to open the door.

"Who is it?" Petunia asked. I guess she woke up from her fainting spell. A minute later I heard shouting.

"Leave my family alone, you freak!"

That would be the representative, I thought. I was going to leave the ruckus downstairs to sort out itself, when I thought of something. If magic got me into this mess, then surely, magic can get me _out _of this mess, too. With that revelation, I rushed to the door.

I paused with my hand on the door. Wait. How should I approach this? Just going out there and telling the people downstairs that I was not really Dudley would not blow over well. I imagined myself in a straight jacket, or worse, Vernon blowing a bullet hole through me for possessing his son's body. I shook my head. No, this was a sensitive matter. I can't just go blurting stuff out. I have to play it safe. Find someone trustworthy, someone who can help me. Someone who knows things…

Dumbledore! He's the greatest wizard of all century right? He _has _to know something! He _has_ to be able to help me! That's it! I gotta get to him.

A plan was hatching in my head. I could do magic now, the logical step would be to go to Hogwarts for schooling. From there I can talk to Dumbledore and find a way home. It was so simple!

I twisted the doorknob, but then I paused.

Before I get to Dumbledore, I have to keep my head down. Be inconspicuous. I'll have to play the part of Dudley: a spoilt boy, from a magic hating family, who has just discovered that he could do magic. No problem, I thought with a wicked grin. I did plays before. I love acting. I'm sure I can pull this off, and still have some fun driving the Dursleys up a wall. Except that this time, I would be acting 24/7, and there would be no rehearsal time.

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. I was about to put on my best performance, yet.

I opened the door.

At the bottom of the stairs leading to the front door, I saw Vernon trying to intimidate the wizard at the entryway. He splattered the poor wizard's face with spittle. I grimaced at the sight. I pitied the representative. It was time for me to step in before this escalated into violence.

When Vernon paused to get his breathing back to normal, I shoved past him to get in front of the representative.

"I'll convince them to listen to you. So please, come back tomorrow." I said to the wizard. The representative gave me a long, hard look, and with a sigh conceded to my request. Vernon slammed the door in the wizard's face and I cringed. We waddled back into the living room to find Petunia trying to shoo the owl out of the house.

The owl did not appreciate having its feathers ruffled, and their dance about the wrecked living room made a comedic sight for me. The owl fluttered over Petunia's head and clamped onto a roller in her hair.

"Let go of my hair, you bloody creature!" She screeched.

She was never going to get the owl to cooperate like that. I sighed. As funny as it was to watch Petunia floundering around with an owl, it had to stop; there were other things that needed to be sorted out: my sudden magical ability, for one.

I went into the kitchen and found half a loaf of white bread. I took a slice and baited the owl with the food. The owl rotated its head on its neck and seemed to consider me. Finally it let go of Petunia's hair and went for the treat.

"Sorry it's not toasted or anything. But it's a bit hectic around here," I gestured. The owl nipped my finger as if it understood me. Then with a hoot, it took the slice of bread and flew out the window. Alright, back to business. I looked up at the Dursleys to find them staring at me with wide eyes. Vernon looked at me as if I was off my rocker. Oh, because I was talking to the owl. Petunia looked shocked, probably because I managed to get the owl out of her hair, literally.

I cleared my throat. The sound was funny coming from Dudley, but I tried to ignore that bit.

"So if we could all find someplace to sit, I think there's something we need to talk about." Vernon looked ready to protest. It came as a shock when Petunia took the lead.

"Let's go to the kitchen. I'll fix up something to eat while we're at it."

"Pet…" Vernon called after her with a whine. It was clear that he did not want to face this situation.

Petunia was surprisingly calm and quiet as we went over the situation. Vernon kept yelling at the freakiness of the whole thing and spitting his morning coffee all over the table. He was adamant about denying the entire thing.

Finally, when it looked like things were getting out of hand, I did the only thing I could think of to get him to listen. I threw a tantrum. And what a marvelous thing it was. I knocked Vernon's cup of coffee over and spilt the scorching brown liquid all over his pajamas. But I didn't stop there. I kicked all the chairs onto their sides and moved on to throwing the silverware around. (Petunia escaped to the living room with her cup of coffee.) I got through all the spoons and forks. Just as I picked up the first knife, Vernon got up from his chair.

"Alright, alright! We'll see that bloody freak tomorrow!" Vernon acquiesced. I stopped shouting and let out a breath slowly.

"Well, since you're so adamant about it, I guess we'll have to be civil tomorrow," I said and laid down the knife in my hand. Then I exited the kitchen, leaving Vernon flapping his lips with an empty cup in his hand.

The next day, a different representative came to the house. Vernon glared daggers at the wizard but wisely kept his mouth shut. (By the way, he had to take a day off from work for this. Talk about adding salt to his wound.)

The living room was still in shambles. All the glass was cleared up, and windows replaced, for security measures, but everything else was in the same state of ruin. Petunia led the representative into the kitchen, and we sat around the table while he explained to us about the magical world. Vernon was purple throughout the explanation. Petunia on the other hand was remarkably blank faced. I wonder what was going through her mind.

"Now, all that remains is to get young Dudley's education sorted out." The representative, Jordan Steward, said amicably. That seemed to be the last straw for Vernon. He blew up.

"My son is not going to some freaky school that all you freaks go to!" I saw the representative twitch and I was surprised that he managed to remain civil in the presence of the Dursleys.

"Mr. Dursley, you _must_ understand that you _cannot_ leave your son's magic _untamed_! Magic, when handled with ignorance can cause great havoc." He motioned to the demolished living room as an example. Petunia cringed at the reminder. I could tell that repairing the place was going to cost a pretty penny. Vernon on the other hand was entirely focused on something else.

"Do not utter that word in our house!"

"What word, Mr. Dursley?" The poor representative was so confused.

"That M-word!"

"M-word? …You mean _magic_, Mr. Dursley?" Somehow I found the way Steward addressed Vernon with 'Mr. Dursley' funny. I think he was purposely making fun of Vernon with that title. Before Vernon could go into another rage, I cut in.

"Daddy," that got his attention good. I hadn't called the Dursleys 'dad' or 'mum' since I woke up in the hospital. "Are you calling me a freak? Don't you like me now?" Vernon was silent. Ha! I got you now. He looked constipated as he thought over what I said.

"Of course not Dudders," Petunia assured me quickly. Inwardly I cringed at the nickname. I was seriously considering a name change.

"Absolutely, my son is not a freak," Vernon agreed. "And now _you_, Steward, can take your freakiness and go…"

"Daddy!"

"What son?" Vernon said distractedly.

"I want to learn magic."

"Of course you don't. Now, Steward…" Vernon stumbled, "Dudley, you- you want- What?!"

"I want to learn magic." I reiterated.

"But- but- but- that's…!"

"Isn't it nice that another person in the family knows magic?" I tried to avoid Harry's name, I didn't want another distraction in the conversation. "It would make us equal." I said in reference to Harry. The first part was to get to Petunia. I remembered from the books that she had wanted to get into Hogwarts with Lily. The second part was to appease Vernon. And it looked like my arguments were working.

"Well, if you put it that way. Then that _boy_," Vernon spat, "would have nothing over you." He continued to mumble to himself, "Of course not, my son must be superior to that freak in every way."

"Dudley…" Petunia looked at me with a faraway look. Perhaps she was recalling her childhood? Then she turned to Steward with a sharper look in her eyes, "Wouldn't my Dudley be at a disadvantage, starting school so late in the year? The other students will pick on him."

Steward smiled, glad that he was finally getting through to the thick muggles probably.

"Do not worry, Mrs. Dursley. We have a tutoring agency that can get your son up to par with his year mates before he goes to school. This will ensure he would not be at a disadvantage."

"A tutoring agency?" Petunia looked mildly surprised, and perhaps slightly impressed.

"Yes, many pureblood families hire tutors for their children. It is our equivalent of your school system's elementary, home school, or tutoring school. Many wizards only make use of our elementary and tutoring features, as public schooling is more enriching than homeschooling."

"I see," Petunia murmured.

"With your permission, I believe our tutoring agency can help your son prepare for school by the time the Christmas holidays are over."

"You mean to say, our son will…" Vernon started.

"Okay," I said. Vernon deflated.

"Dudley…"

"Okay." I reiterated. "When do I start?" Steward smiled at me.

"I can contact the agency and have them send someone over by tomorrow."

"That'd be nice, but it can't be before four p.m. I have to visit the doctor and have my cast remove tomorrow." I motioned to the cast on my leg. I assumed it was from Dudley's fight at his school.

"That can be arranged. Now then," Steward stood up, "I believe we have covered everything. Should you have any more questions, please do not hesitate to owl me." Steward had explained owling to us and how to get to Diagon Alley to purchase an owl. "It was an unexpected pleasure talking to you _Mr. Dursley_." He winked and held out his hand for me to shake. I was taken aback but shook his hand anyways. "Before I leave, would you like me to fix your living room?"

I looked at Petunia.

"I think that would be highly appreciated." Whoops, wrong choice of words, Petunia looked like she was going into shock. Did Dudley even know the word appreciate? Vernon seemed too out of it to pick up on my slip.

Steward fixed up the place, and then apparated from the living room. I hid my grin as Vernon fainted on the spot.

The next evening, a different wizard stopped by the house. He drew up a schedule, and talked about the cost for the sessions.

"I will not pay for your freaky lessons for such a preposterous price! You freaks are trying to swindle me!" Vernon had spat in the wizard's face. After doing the conversions and calculations I thought the price was fairly reasonable.

"You can sell everything I have in my other room to make up for the costs," I said coldly.

"That's not what I meant, son. Of course I want you to have the best education possible."

"Oh," I perked up noticeably, "In that case, I want to add these courses to the schedule," I circled a few more courses on the pamphlet. "Please?" I smiled.

"Of- of course," Vernon looked ready to faint again. I sipped my orange juice to hide my smirk. The wizard redid the calculations and drew up a receipt for Petunia.

"An owl will come tomorrow with a list of the books and supplies you will need. Your lessons will begin next week. Have a good day," he bowed and left through the front door. I was secretly sad that he did not apparate from inside the house like Steward did. I took an almost sadistic pleasure in torturing the Dursleys.

I convinced Petunia to sell all the stuff in Dudley's second bedroom and most of the stuff in his main bedroom. I had no use for Dudley's toys, and the profits can go to purchasing my magical supplies. I grinned as I thought of filling the house with the "freakiness" that the Dursleys abhorred so much at first. This could be fun.

As soon as we got together the necessary funds, Petunia swallowed her pride, and took me to Diagon Alley for my supplies. Vernon would have nothing to do with, I quote, "all this freakiness."

The Leaky Cauldron wasn't exactly welcoming, but it was made worse by Petunia's obvious disgust as she sniffed and looked down her nose at the shady costumers. I blushed at her rude behavior, and kept my head bowed. The brick wall leading to Diagon Alley was even less impressive. But when I first stepped into Diagon Alley, the sight was, well, magical. I don't know how else to describe it. Both Petunia and I spent a good few minutes gapping at the sights before we roused from our stupor.

Our first stop was to Gringotts. Of course, we had no idea where the magical bank was, and spent the better part of an hour wandering around lost, before Petunia permitted me to stop a witch for directions. After we exchanged currency we went around for my supplies. I spent the longest time in the bookshop, and picked up all sorts of books that sparked my interest. Sadly, I couldn't find any books that might hint at my unusual circumstance.

Finding the right wand for me followed a similar vein. Ollivander couldn't match me with any wands he had at the front of the store. I was beginning to fear that no wand would deign to be held by me. What if my magic was just a fluke and I wasn't meant to perform magic at all? How will I ever get into Hogwarts without a wand?

Eventually, Ollivander found some neglected wand in the back of his store. It was in a box buried under two inches of dust. I wrinkled my nose when he blew the dust off the box. Couldn't he have _scorgify_ it? When I picked up the wand, the three primary colors burst out of the tip of the wand in a shower of frizzles. The wand was ten and a half inches, made from ebony wood, and supposedly good for Charms. It was made by the previous store owner, presumably Ollivander's ancestor.

Our last stop was the pet store. Since snail mail was not an option, Petunia and Vernon had relented to getting me an owl so that we may keep in touch. I fell in love with a brown and cream colored great horned owl, which I named Pharmis after a wizard I found in my Charms textbook.

The lessons that began next week were gruesome. Since I added a few elective courses to the schedule, I ended up saddling myself with more work. Damn. At the time, I picked the classes on a whim. I just wanted to spite Vernon, but now I was feeling the brunt of my decision. As I slaved through endless hours of lessons and self work, I berated myself over and over in my head. I wasn't here to master the art of magic. All I needed was enough to get me into Hogwarts so that I can talk to Dumbledore, and get him to help me home.

An exception was made for my special case. While the trace was still on my wand, any magic done in the Dursley's household was ignored so that I may practice my spells. I think this was a curse in disguise, as my tutors expected me to work doubly hard, since I could now perform magic on my own time.

I groaned as I closed my History text which was putting me to sleep faster than any lullaby. And I used to _like_ history in high school. I picked up my Potions text. I still have to do some reading before I could sleep. I rubbed my eyes and plowed on, all the while wishing for a strong cup of espresso.

The tutoring agency assigned me three different tutors to cover all my core subjects and my electives. Asides from my Healing Arts tutor, the other two professors took an instant disliking to me. Dudley's image does not make a very good first impression. The tutors saw a spoilt brat who gorged. The attitude of the brat's parents weren't very positive, either. As a result, those two tutors went especially hard on me. I swear it's not just in my head. They drilled lessons into me like I'm in some Magical Academy Boot Camp. Merlin, help me.

After nearly two months of lessons, it was time for me to join the rest of the Hogwarts population. I lost substantial weight but was still considered overweight for a kid my age, and I swear I lost more hair, too, from all the stress. My two evil boot camp tutors deemed me passable in my lessons. (They're hating man, I worked my butt off in all my courses!) Only my Healing Arts tutor offered me kind words and compliments. He assured me that I would do fine, but I didn't plan to stay long enough to worry too much about my grades.

It was decided that I would travel by floo to The Three Broomsticks in Hogsmeade and from there fly to Hogwarts (on the same broom as a wizard representative of course). My trunk would be delivered separately. I lamented the fact that I wouldn't get to ride the Hogwarts Express or get my first glimpse of Hogwarts from the lake. I was promised that for my second year, but for now, floo would be the faster mode of transportation. I agreed, but was still saddened. I didn't plan on staying long enough for them to uphold their promise next year.

On January 5th, while the students who went home for the holidays were riding the Express back to Hogwarts, I flooed ahead to the school, to get my 'paperwork' sorted out. That night, I would become an official student of Hogwarts.


End file.
